"Miss Middleton, sir; and she bade me to say to you that you must try to eat; and that it is a great mistake to fast when one has a nervous headache, brought on by fatigue and excitement; and that the next best thing to rest is food, and both together are a cure," replied the man, carefully arranging the service on the stand.
"I might have known it," thought Ishmael, with an undefined feeling of self-reproach. "I might have known that she would not forget me, even though I forgot myself. What would my life be at home without this dear little sister? Sweet sister! dear sister! Yes, I will follow her advice; I will eat and drink for her sake, because I know she will question Powers and be disappointed if she finds that I have not done justice to this repast."
"Will you have more light, sir?" asked the footman.
"No, no, thank you," replied Ishmael, rising and seating himself in a chair beside the stand.
The tea was strong and fragrant, the cream rich, the sugar crystalline, and a single cup of the beverage refreshed him. The toast was crisp and yellow, the butter fresh, and the shavings of chipped beef crimson and tender. And so, despite his heartache and headache, Ishmael found his healthy and youthful appetite stimulated by all this. And the meal that was begun for Bee's sake was finished for his own.
"Tour head is better now, I hope, sir?" respectfully inquired Powers, as he prepared to remove the service.
"Much, thank you. Tell Miss Middleton so, with my respects, and say how grateful I feel to her for this kind attention."
"Yes, sir."
"And, Powers, you may bring me lights now."
And a few minutes later, when Powers had returned with two lighted candles and placed them on the table, Ishmael, who knew that not an over tasked brain, but an undisciplined heart, was the secret of his malady, set himself to work as to a severe discipline, and worked away for three or four hours with great advantage; for, when at twelve o'clock he retired to bed, he fell asleep and slept soundly until morning.